


dreaming

by sakon



Category: Ayatsuri Sakon | Puppet Master Sakon
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24266011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakon/pseuds/sakon
Summary: Zenkichi gets a nightmare; Sakon is there.
Relationships: Tachibana Sakon/Fujita Zenkichi





	dreaming

Zenkichi jolts — _jumps —_ from the futon. His chest pumps up and deflates into nothing, sweat soaked shirt clinging to his humbled, strong body. 

It's just the two of them. Sakon's eyes are closed, his lips half-parted as he breathes softly through his nose, the rise and fall of his chest soft and audible in the dead of night. The world blurs; nothing else can be heard but the deafening night, and his body feels weak for being so strong. 

It's hard to catch his breath with the plaguing silence and screech of wheels that repeats when he closes his eyes. But then, he closes them regardless and inhales. Then exhales, breath shallow and shakey until it calms and the shaking in his chest dulls to a normal pace. His heart is just about to stop hammering when a voice comes from behind him—

"Zenkichi-san..?" 

The flash of a figure coming closer passes by his eyes, but the arms that wrap around his neck and head feel coldly warm. He has never been warm, but there's warmth in comfort. 

"Are you okay...?" Sakon murmurs, but receives no response. 

His body goes limp as Sakon pulls him into an embrace, the strong and delicate arms wrapping around old scars and fingers tracing across each of them. He's resting into Sakon's shoulder, the tiny trace of his collarbone bumping against his face. He can feel them dance across his skin, the soft brush of skin against his own, despite the sweat and filth of being submerged in sheets. Then again, Sakon's had never been shy about getting his hands messy.

His hands linger still, then rub tiny circles into the muscles of his back. Eyes closed, Zenkichi focuses on the motions, left to right, swinging back and forth. 

The fingers trace circles into his back until the heaving of his chest calms, the rise and falls almost in line with the breathing Zenkichi feels feels against his head. His head falls down further, and he can then hear the way Sakon's heart thrums against his chest. It's a hummingbird heartbeat, tiny fluttering falling between his ribs — truly innocent. Zenkichi presses against the pale skin, feeling fingers rake against his back, palms now pressing. 

It's all so deceptively fragile. It all works, and Zenkichi's mind buzzes with action once more. His breathing becomes a huff as he surges up from his spot so close to Sakon's heart, to look him in the eye. The fingers on his back still trace circles, even as he pushes Sakon onto his back, body up towards the ceiling. Zenkichi faintly grins at the compliance, positioning his hands to cup his lithe figure at the ribs from his position sitting upright.

The twinkle in Sakon's eye doesn't leave. Zenkichi looks on at him, expression calm for a moment, before he gets startled once more. 

Sakon clears his throat before, in a soft voice, he says, "What happened?"

His voice comes out a little louder than he intends, and they both startle. The hand on his back runs another circle just then, and Zenkichi's smile grows at the feeling.

"Nightmares. They're shit." Zenkichi answers with a rough voice, sweeping down to meet him face to face, body nestled between Sakon's legs. He relaxes his weight onto Sakon and lets his hands roam a few inches up. 

Sakon's breathing flares across his skin when he touches the higher spaces on his ribs. He nods to the answer, albiet shakily. Zenkichi can hear the faintest hint of laughter and can feel the way Sakon's chest expands for a moment. Right, he forgot Sakon was ticklish and somehow forgot how light his laughter is — how cleansing. 

"How so?" Sakon asks tentatively, with faint amusement tinting his voice. Even then, the fingers across his back still tell of concern. Sakon still sounds concerned, even if he isn't overly so. He trusts in Zenkichi, and in turn, Zenkichi trusts in him. 

Zenkichi ignores the question, dipping his head to a shoulder. He presses a kiss on smooth skin, and he feels a warmth spread over his chest when he does. 

It only takes a moment before he's peppering kisses across his skin, hands flying to his waist as he keeps him in the same place. He feels Sakon squirm and the hands glide from his back to his chest, alabaster fingers pressing against his sunkissed skin. 

Sakon pushes against him, but the laughter bubbling in his stomach with the dancing stars in his warm eyes that compel him forward tell him it's only in play. 

"Hell, they just are," Zenkichi murmurs, chuckling into the touch that seems to take away the visions. He can close his eyes and not see the flashing lights of a car and not hear the crash. They will talk later; he doesn't want to know, and Sakon wordlessly knows it. 

Sakon doesn't press on further, opting to take the hands molded to Zenkichi's chest to his long tresses. They take his hair back, showing off the new scars lining his forehead, puffy and white against his tan skin. A finger runs over them and bury into the messy locks. 

Perhaps he's gotten to know him too well, to the point Sakon can understand each night terror and dream he has. Or: he's just there, trying, and that's enough. Zenkichi wonders if he's dreaming; it certainly isn't a nightmare. Not with the smile that crooks at Sakon's lips that makes him laugh with love and press more kisses into his familiar body.

He can feel Sakon's stomach puff in sensitivity as he lowers his head to kiss down his stomach, and resolves that it isn't a dream. 

If only dreams could be like this.


End file.
